Not Like the Others
by roguespirit
Summary: An ongoing series of short stories about people in the universe of Splatoon who do not conform to the norm or fit in with the majority. These short stories cover a number of different subjects and genres. Rating subject to change.
1. Helping Hands and Helping Sammiches

Helping Hands and Helping Sammiches

There was a loud thump and the wall shook as if hit by a rubber mallet. A shrill wine followed. Lana Lamar rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip as she turned towards the ascending stairway.

"Dakota, how many times do you have to be reminded to duck when going down the stairs?" Her question was directed to a very tall Inkling girl in overalls rubbing her forehead, with her light brown tentacles partially wrapped around her in a defensive gesture.

"Sorry Mom," she mumbled.

Lana crossed her own bronze tentacles one over the other in front of her chest. "I can't tell if you keep thumping your head because it's always in the clouds or if it's the other way around."

Now at the bottom of the stairs, Dakota hung her head, grasping her tentacle clubs in her hands, not meeting her eyes.

Lana returned to washing the dishes. "Are you going out again today?'

"Y-yeah." Dakota shuffled into the kitchen, almost tiptoeing.

"Back to the workshop?"

Dakota's shuffling ceased. She stood frozen in place, her face flushed a light blue hue with mild shame. Lana sighed.

"Dakota, I don't like you hanging around nothing but Octarians all the time. It's not like I'm opposed to you going altogether but you should spend more time with other Inklings. You're going to become a shut-in at this rate."

"It's not that I think Octarians are better," Dakota replied meekly. "It's just… other Inklings are a pain to hang around. I'm only a C-Rank in Turf War, boys are always coming up to talk to me and sometimes girls give me nasty looks."

"Dakota, that happens to every girl your age."

"Not as much as me."

"Because you're tall, beautiful, and attractive, so of course boys will want to talk to you, and because of that, a lot of other girls will get jealous. You'd be very popular if you just went out more and acted more friendly."

Dakota grabbed a few pieces of sub bread and started to lay them out on the counter. "I'm gonna make a couple of sammiches before I go."

Lana scowled. "Fine, but this discussion is not over Dakota Miriam Lamar. We'll involve your father next time if we have to."

Dakota didn't respond; instead, she focused on grabbing the various ingredients for her own brand of sandwiches, grabbing them with her long tentacles and using her hands to put it all together. In a matter of moments, she had two fully assembled sub sandwiches. She wrapped them in plastic and then placed them into a large shopping bag.

"Don't be home late."

"I won't."

Dakota slipped on her brown boots and grabbed a pair of simple work gloves, stashing them in the front pocket of her overalls, and then headed out.

Despite being mid-morning, most of the neighbourhood was fairly quiet. By now, most Inklings her age were out at Inkopolis Plaza or Inkopolis Square gathering for turf wars. Adults would be doing chores or errands, too busy to pay much attention to her. That was how Dakota liked it: nobody around to stare at her or try to talk to her. She hoped it would be like this the whole way to the workshop. Her hopes were dashed when she saw the small crowd at the next bus stop.

' _Why are there so many here? This bus goes away from the city centre.'_

Dakota tried to be invisible, changing her colour to blend into the sun-bleached concrete of the sidewalk and retaining wall. Unfortunately, when one was literally head and shoulders above the rest as she was, remaining invisible was a nearly impossible task.

"Oh, hey, Kota!" One of the girls looked up from her phone and waved at her. Dakota winced and awkwardly waved back. Now, everyone else had noticed her and stared up at her. She knew a few of them already and was less concerned about them then the strangers in the group who approached her much more boldly than she would have liked.

"Hey, you're an awful lotta' fresh there girl. Wanna hang out with us and see some rippin' Turf war matches? I'm an A-rank myself."

"Yeah, A-." Another boy scoffed. "Don't listen to this guy, I'm way better than him. A+ right here."

Dakota tried to tune them all out as they argued. Coming up only to her chest she tried to pretend they were all little kids. That helped her feel a bit more comfortable. She glimpsed a few of the girls further away glaring in her direction. Their eyes were so intense it made her shiver. Her mother called it jealousy, to Dakota, it seemed more like they were demanding the gods end her existence.

The first bus forced her to get on with all of them. One of the girls she knew occupied the spot next to her, much to the consternation of some of the boys, but Dakota was relieved. What was the girl's name again? Long pink mantle, dark red eyes, oh, Morica.

"Th-thanks Morica."

"No prob 'Kota," she chirped. "Must be tough being so good looking. You don't even put any effort into it and you still rake in the boys like a fishing trawler."

Dakota's face flushed sapphire and tried to hide it behind her tentacles. "I'm, not that pretty."

"Sure you are, you're just embarrassed to admit it," She giggled. "Well, you'd look really fresh if you weren't wearing overalls all the time. Not really an Inkling thing to wear unless you have to garden or something." Morica shrugged. "So, where you heading off to?"

"Me?" Dakota hid even further behind her large tentacles, partially wrapping them around her head like a scarf. "I'm uh, going to visit some friends. I'm helping them with some stuff."

Morica nodded sympathetically. "Helping them out with chores huh? That's a bummer for them, but real nice of you 'Kota."

The bus slowed to a stop but Dakota made no move to rise. "I'm staying on," she whispered.

"Okay." Morica stood as the bus hissed to a stop. "I'll see you later, 'kay?" She waved and Dakota found herself waving back as Morica followed the others off the bus. Some of the boys were still arguing.

As she watched Morica walk away from the bus stop, chatting happily with the others and teasing them, Dakota thought that maybe, Morica might be worth getting to know better. She seemed friendly and having an Inkling friend would help get her mother to stop worrying. Maybe.

As Dakota walked and bussed to her destination, quaint suburbia gradually transformed into grungy industrial parks and warehouses. Dakota knew that most of her kind would find the utilitarian buildings ugly and gross, especially the old and rusty ones.

Dakota actually preferred this area in many ways. She thought the buildings and people here were more honest while people in her neighbourhood were more concerned about keeping up appearances. Even though it made for a nice looking place to live, there was a sense of fraudulence about it.

Her last bus slowed as it entered a particularly shoddy looking area. The simple but sturdy industrial buildings were no more, replaced with makeshift huts and shacks. This was one of Inkopolis' slums.

When Dakota pulled the cable for her stop, the bus driver, a jellyfish, actually turned around to look at her. "You sure you want to get off here kid?"

Dakota was already standing up. "Yeah, I'm sure." He probably thought it odd enough to see an Inkling on his route, but this wasn't exactly the safest neighbourhood for a girl her age. The bus slowed and the door opened.

As Dakota disembarked, a few of the locals, all Octolings, looked up from what they were doing and looked at her. She smiled and waved but otherwise didn't interact with them. They seemed busy. The bus stayed put with its door open until she started walking up the street.

Dakota walked past more shacks situated on poorly groomed lawns with trash and scrap strewed about. Though they looked shabby, they were actually quite well made. Octolings were quite good at making things with what society at large threw away. Dakota's destination loomed ahead.

The workshop, like most buildings in the area, was a building, made by combining other smaller structures and then filling in any gaps. The main workshop area was mostly outside or under awnings where Octolings worked on anything from cars to toasters. The tools were kept in a tool shop made of two shipping containers with one of their walls removed and replaced with a few steel support beams to make a single large space.

Behind the workshop was where most of the Octolings who worked there lived. It was a structure made up of other shipping containers, old RVs and camper trailers; and makeshift greenhouses out back. It had taken them five years of work to make the soil suitable for growing things.

Dakota entered the small plot but nobody looked up from their work to notice her. She admired how focused they were and how it seems she wasn't a huge deal. It was actually nice to not have a lot of fanfare when she arrived someplace. Nobody seemed to notice her at all until she entered the small office hut and the little bell rang.

The office was small and Dakota was stuck in a permanent duck to avoid banging her head on the ceiling. It was constructed from a variety of recycled materials and had a piece of plexiglass in the roof that provided the only source of illumination the office had. A sign read "CASH ONLY. NO CHECKS OR CARDS." Sat behind a desk made of old wooden crates was an Octoling with four thick magenta tentacles. She looked up at Dakota and gave her a small smile.

"Hey, Dakota. Here to help out?"

"Yeah, thanks for letting me help, Tamli. I'm learning a lot from you guys."

Tamli shrugged. "I'm not going to turn away someone who works for free, especially one as competent as you." She eyed the plastic bag Dakota was carrying. "What's that?"

"It's for Tuuri. I know it's not much but I thought-." Tamli cut her off with a raised hand.

"It's alright Dakota. We all appreciate it, really. Go on up; just remember to knock."

Dakota nodded, fully aware of the potential consequences of ignoring that bit of advice, and slipped slowly out of the hut, wincing as her head grazed the top of the doorframe.

The front door to the home was sandwiched between an old RV and food truck. The latter served as the kitchen while the former was the dining room. The corridor between them was a bit narrow because of the load-bearing struts between the two old vehicles that held up the floors above it.

Sometimes the narrow passage made it difficult for more than one person to go through at once, especially for Dakota with her much larger size. When she asked why they made it so narrow, they replied that it was more defensible that way. Dakota wasn't sure what that really meant but it was probably a holdover from their lives back in Octo Valley.

At the end of the corridor, a large shipping container had been put on its end to make a stairwell leading to the second and third floors. The second floor was the sleeping quarters. Nobody had a bedroom here, it was all very intimate and privacy wasn't a luxury they could afford. The third floor, where she was headed, was the sanctuary. It had been made for the purpose of isolation, in the case one of them got sick. These days, however, the third floor had another purpose.

Clutching the bag tightly, Dakota squeezed herself into the narrowest corridor in the house, grunting as her hips and shoulders rubbed against the walls. If not for the plastic bag, she would have used her squidform to get through this part.

' _The joys of being descended from giant squids.'_

At the end of the corridor was another small door. This was the most recent addition to the home, a teardrop-shaped camper trailer that had been gutted, cleaned, remodelled, and then mounted to the third floor.

Taking a deep breath, Dakota knocked and waited for a response. "Tuuri? It's Dakota," she said quietly.

"Come in. It's okay; she's up." Dakota slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

The room was bright, with the camper's original porthole windows providing a lot of natural light. The floor was the original wooden floor, but it had been cleaned to a spotless shine. A small rug had been added in the middle.

The tail end of the teardrop featured the original bed, with small compartments underneath for storage. At the leading edge of the teardrop, surrounded by a small array of toys and dodads was the room's senior occupant, an Octoling with tentacles of such a dark purple that they were almost black; although, they were turning white and shrivelled at the tips.

"Hello Dakota," she said without turning around. Her eyes were transfixed on a fish tank nestled against the wall.

"Hello." Dakota eyed the Octoling's unhealthy looking tentacles with concern. "Have you been looking after yourself?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Dakota slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. She took a seat beside Tuuri and couldn't help but smile at the little creature in the tank that so occupied her attention. A baby octoling that shared Tuuri's dark purple eyes was using her tentacles and less developed limbs to open a plastic jar. Watching her trying to figure out the mechanism of the lid, which she did quickly, and then hurriedly investigate what was inside was both adorable and heartwarming.

"Dawww, she's already learning to take things apart. Better be careful or her brain'll get too big for the rest of her."

Turri chuckled but her face shone with pride and her dark purple eyes gleamed with adoration. "I can't believe she's so healthy. I wasn't even supposed to be able to have children, but then somehow…," Tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes and Dakota wrapped a comforting tentacle around her. Turri always got emotional when this subject came up and she usually brought it up herself.

"I'm just so thankful for her. Since I left the army, I didn't think I had a reason for living, but now I have Vita, a healthy strong child. I couldn't be happier."

Vita, in the Octoling language, was a name that roughly translated to mean "one who inspires vigour in everyone else." Dakota thought that appropriate since all the Octolings in the workshop had been feeling rather aimless and just trying to survive from one day to the next, but now the family had a new life to raise and to care for. They considered her a blessing from the gods and were now determined to raise her well.

"I think I have something that might make you a little bit happier." Dakota reached into her bag and pulled out the plastic wrapped subs. "I made a couple of sammiches for the hungry mama."

Tuuri gasped. "So much food! No I… I couldn't possibly take it all for myself. I, I'd probably get fat from eating so much."

It actually hurt Dakota a little that these Octolings, her friends, were so used to such meagre meals that they thought they would get fat from a couple of sub sandwiches. From the look of those wilted tentacles though, it seemed like Tuuri hadn't even been doing that, focused entirely on the well-being of her child. She had been told that this wasn't unusual behaviour for an Octoling mother. Dakota had heard horror stories where Octolings had died of hunger because there wasn't enough food for the baby and them, and then their dead bodies would emit a strange odour that enticed their offspring to eat their dead carcass, providing them with enough sustenance to last a little longer. Just thinking about that made Dakota shiver.

"You have to. You can't do your best to take care of Vita if you don't look after yourself. Mama needs to be healthy too." She handed the first sub to Tuuri who reluctantly accepted it. She peered down at her child, swimming from toy to toy in her little fish tank.

"In that case I gratefully accept. Thank you."

Before unwrapping the sub, she grabbed a plastic sheet and put it on the floor in front of her. That sheet was for catching crumbs. It was something Dakota had seen all the Octolings here do. At the end of the meal, they would pour the crumbs that had fallen onto the sheet into their mouths so as to waste as little food as possible. Dakota was saddened that they had to go to such extremes to live here.

"Well, I'd better get to work." Dakota gave Tuuri a pat on the head and then waved at the baby. "Bye bye Vita." The baby looked at her and let out a joyful chirp that brought a smile to Dakota's face and happiness to her heart. Maybe if she could have shown her mother this, she wouldn't be so opposed to her coming here all the time.

Leaving mother and child alone, Dakota went back downstairs. As she passed the kitchen, she spotted a couple more girls there making lunch for everyone. Lunch wasn't much more than a snack for them. They'd be lucky if they got both a breakfast and dinner meal in a day.

Dakota slipped on her gloves as she entered the workshop area again. Looking around, she could see the dozen Octolings all hard at work, helping each other out to try and make a living by using what skills they possessed. Not just for themselves, not just for each other, but for a child they had all adopted as their own. They weren't coworkers; they were all family.

Dakota just couldn't understand why everyone else thought so little of their kind when they were capable of such unity and selflessness. To Dakota, these poor, destitute Octolings were the noblest of peoples. They were her friends, and she couldn't bring herself to go out and fool around while they were struggling to eek out a living for themselves.

Dakota spotted Tamli, walking from station to station with a clipboard and flagged her down. "I'm ready to work. Where do you need me?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

This is the first in this series of short stories. The star of this story, Dakota, is an OC borrowed from a friend and used with permission. I hope you like this little story and a different view of the Octolings. Stay tuned for the next one.


	2. Blanket Observation

Abyssina was quite the attractive little Inkling. Tobri couldn't help but be drawn to her as he examined her through his binoculars, a notebook on his lap. Her natural sunny orange colour was as bright and vibrant as her smile. She stood slightly taller than many of her peers and, critically for his purposes, her hips were broader as well. At the moment, she was sitting at a table with some friends enjoying a meal that could have fed almost three times their number of Octolings.

Tobri wrote in his notebook. ' _Eats noticeably larger portions than many of her peers. Seems to be a typical trait of fertile females. Her appetite seems to be in particularly good form today with more frequent snacking. Although young, she may be with dormant eggs. Need to investigate further.'_

The note about her fertility and ability to breed might have seemed like an odd thing to note, but he was curious about what traits male Inklings found attractive and wondered in what ways they differed from those of Octolings.

As an Octoling male, Tobri had to be well versed on the female of his own species, their general behaviours, and the traits that made them a good breeder. One could learn a lot about a people from their courtship rituals and what they considered attractive traits in the opposite sex.

Tobri flipped through his notebook. So far he had relatively detailed profiles on ten Inkling females and five males. He had picked most of them out early on as they had all been the centre of one group or another, making them ideal subjects for study.

Female-led groups seemed focused on socializing and mingling about. A lesser Octoling would probably have seen it merely as wasting time, and perhaps it might have been, but Tobri saw things differently. What these females were doing was creating communities, groups of trusted individuals to surround herself with. He had first realized this when one of his female subjects, #8, came into the plaza. She had been deeply upset with head low, her colour dark, and signs of crying. Within moments of her arrival, many of those from her group had also arrived and begun consoling and comforting her.

From what he had gathered, her courtship had ended in failure, the male having found another potential mate. Clearly, such an event damaged a female's status and prestige in their society. He noticed other females mocking her or otherwise talking about her through his equipment. He had been surprised when one of the females consoling #8 broke from the group and suddenly attacked one of the mocking females with a violent punch to the face. Despite being outnumbered, she fought all comers until a group of males broke up the fight. He still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the affair, but he made sure he caught a snapshot of that particular girl and added her to his list of subjects to observe.

The male-led groups almost always carried weapons for their Turf War combat simulation games. He was usually either their best warrior or the best strategist. The large screens set up around the plaza had allowed him to observe the combat simulations without leaving his hiding spot. They had been very useful for his research. Not only could he observe their behaviour in combat, something the military would be very interested in, but he was also able to observe the reactions of other Inklings to their performance.

Inklings who performed well were often greeted warmly by the crowd outside, but teams that had performed especially well or much better than expected could be almost swarmed by admirers, even if they lost. Clearly, Inklings considered battle performance a symbol of status. Not unlike the Octolings in their own military.

Some of these combat focused groups could be female-led too but they were in the minority. The males were clearly the more aggressive of the two sexes with the females generally being more docile unless threatened. The females, more often than not, were the ones who formed larger groups and acted as the centre. This seemed to indicate that Inklings were a matriarchal society, with dominant females serving as the centres of their various communities and aspects of culture. He still needed more research before he was sure, however.

It was obvious that these dominant females would be the most likely and desirable to males and indeed, he had logged more attempts at courtship with these females than any of the others. Even so, he needed a lot more data before he could draw any conclusions.

One thing he had noticed was that sometimes males would try to court females, finding a group of females the same size as their own and try to court them all at once. Clearly, this necessitated a group comprised of close companions to avoid the fierce competitiveness that Inkling males normally exhibited around females.

Tobri's eyes caught the setting of the sun and he realized his time was up for the day. The long shadows were making it difficult to keep watch on his subjects anyway. He peered through his binoculars for one last look at Abyssina, admiring how the orange of the sun blended so well with her own orange colour, making her seem to glow. He snapped a quick photo of her, capturing that moment of perfect beauty.

He thought it strange that no males had set a claim on her. She interacted with many so it wasn't like none of them had an opportunity. Maybe there were social cues he was missing or an aspect of their courtship conduct that he didn't grasp.

Sighing, he realized just how long it had been since he had seen any of his mates. His work always had him so busy that the only time he spent time with any of them was to mate. He chided himself for such weakness; every other male in Octo Valley had the same problem.

Tobi stuffed his binoculars and notebook into his backpack. In a way, he didn't want to leave, he enjoyed his work, but he also wanted to get back to familiar territory and faces. Besides that, there was only so much of the Inklings he could stand at a time. As fascinating as they could be, there was still so much about them that he just couldn't stand, especially on principle as an Octarian.

Tobri climbed down the drainpipe from his rooftop hiding spot and kept to the shadows as he navigated down the alley. There was very little foot traffic down that alley, yet another reason he had chosen that particular spot to observe.

It was almost an hour of careful navigating and sneaking before he reached the circular grate that would take him out of Inkopolis and down through Octo Valley. A quick change into his octopus form and he was through, leaving the bustling sounds of the city behind.

Once through to the other side, he passed a dilapidated old shack. Although it looked like someone had been living there, nobody had been spotted occupying the building for several months, which was one of the reasons Tobri had been able to conduct his mission in the first place. With nobody watching the entrance to Inkopolis from Octo Valley, they could slip agents in and out with relative ease. He hopped into one of the kettles and made his last transit before finally reaching Octo Valley itself.

The kettle deposited him on a pad of broken concrete dressed with splotches of sickly yellow moss. Above him, the dome's video panels glowed a sky blue, some of the flickering with the onset of hardware failure. A few were completely blank, having failed some time ago.

Tobri dashed behind a rusted shipping container where he hid behind a black boot several times his own height.

"Were you spotted?" A voice whispered from above him.

"I don't think so." He couldn't help the weariness in his voice. They always asked him the same questions.

The large boot lifted and moved away as its owner knelt down in front of him. He looked up at the huge face looming towards him, the equally large goggles glowing like purple spotlights. How he hated them.

The octoling extended her hand towards him. "Please hurry. We're exposed here."

Withholding a sigh, Tobri hopped into her palm, after which she gingerly rose to her feet and placed him in the pouch under her chest armour.

"Comfortable?"

"It's a little snug here. Have you grown since you last carried me, Glori?" The Octoling female's serious face broke and she started to become flustered.

"N-no, I- my lord, please forgive me. I didn't realize I was still growing or I would have surely given you to another of the squad. I beg of you to bear with it until we return to base."

"It's fine Glori; it's not all that serious; although, I wouldn't care for it to get any tighter."

"Understood, I'll make sure you travel next time with someone who can provide you with more room."

"I would appreciate that. Thank you Glori."

"My pleasure as always my lord."

"But you could also try to apply for a uniform that fits you better. This can't be comfortable."

"I couldn't do that my lord. With resources as they are in the army and with our people in general, it would be far too selfish of me to ask for a new uniform when I can still wear the one I have. My personal discomfort is nothing compared to the suffering of our race as a whole."

"Are things really that tight?"

"As tight as it feels my lord." She gave him a tiny smile and Tobri realized that he had unintentionally made a pun. Now, he couldn't help but smile back. Glori had a much more significant sense of humour than many of the other soldiers, so he really enjoyed having her escort him when she did. In no time, however, Glori's smile vanished and she returned to full-on soldier mode.

Taking another peek around the side of the container to check for threats, Glori left cover and hurried towards a large iron girder that had long ago fallen on its side. As she approached, other Octoling faces appeared. Although their goggles hid their eyes, Tobri saw the relief in their expressions, relief at finally having him back with them. And with their presence, Glori's serious face returned.

"Alright, escort formation. Keep an eye out for any Inkling spies or dissenters that might be around. No chit-chat until we reach the outpost." Not a word was spoken in response but everyone carried out her orders, forming a diamond shape around her and moving at her pace.

Thought it often exasperated him, Tobri was always amazed at how seriously they took their duty escorting. Despite the temptations, they barely glanced in his direction, focused totally on watching for any threat to his safety. Glori too was on the lookout, and barely noticed him wriggling in her pouch as he tried to make himself more comfortable.

The group approached an outpost situated on a hill, surrounded by short yellow grass. A trio of watchtowers, each with an Octosniper posted, were arranged as the corners of a triangle, equidistant from each other. Two of them formed a side facing the direction of their approach while the third faced the back of the outpost, overlooking a large drainage ditch. Within the triangle of towers was a small complex of crude and improvised structures. It was hardly luxurious, even by Octarian standards, and many had opposed him basing his operation here, but he had argued that the extra travel time from a place deeper in Octo Valley would give him less time every day to conduct his research.

His escorts didn't relax until they were within the outpost itself. The Octocommanders guarding the entrance waved them in. Tobri always found the term "Octocommander" confusing. Speaking of which, up ahead, the outpost's Octoling commander approached. The brighter than normal colour of her tentacles and her brisk pace indicated a sense of urgency. Glori came to a stop and saluted her.

"Ma'am, Lord Netter is safe and sound." The commander briefly returned the salute and then bowed.

Tobri always thought it funny that, from a distance, it always looked like the commander was bowing to her subordinate when, in fact, she was bowing to him.

"My lord, Major Lydya Darksea is waiting for you in your office. She's come from Headquarters to check on your progress."

Tobri couldn't suppress the sigh this time. "Fine then. Squad leader, please take me to my office so that may speak immediately to the Major."

"Of course, my lord." Glori came to attention and her commander nodded, dismissing her. The rest of the squad dispersed.

Tobri's office referred to a recently constructed building where he conducted further research and compiled reports once he got back from his fieldwork. Two Octolings guarded the door and bowed as they approached. Glori saluted them in return, a recently created protocol so that it was understood from a distance that it wasn't his person of transport they were bowing to. Tobri thought it a silly and unnecessary complication, but then, he wasn't in the military.

With little electricity to spare, the interior of the small building was dark, save for a single light dangling by its own wiring from the middle of the ceiling above his work table. The table itself was covered in various charts, notes and diagrams.

A wooden box, slightly larger than a coffin, sat on the floor at the far end of the room. It was his personal living quarters. With his small size, it wasn't impractical to bring his home with him. It had its own hygiene facilities, small workplace, but most importantly, most of the floor was essentially a mattress.

Nestled along the same wall as the door was a smaller table, at which sat an Octoling officer with black tentacles and wearing black goggles. The seaweed on her head identified her as one of the elites among the Octolings.

He felt Glori stiffen at the sight of her, suddenly apprehensive. Tobri gave her a pat to encourage her forward and she very gently deposited him on the table.

"Thank you Glori. Oh, I have one more job for you." He gestured for her to hold out her hand and he placed his camera in the middle of her palm. "Take this to the intelligence officer, _carefully._ Tell her it's from me and she'll know what to do."

"At once my lord." Bowing, Glori left. The light from the open door lit up the room and draped the major in shadow before the door shut and sent them back into a more uniform darkness.

Tobri faced the Major with arms behind his back. Even looking up at only half her height she still towered above him. Her goggles glowed like purple moons in the darkness. She had a confident smile and her thick tentacles flexed themselves idly.

"I'll ask you to remove your goggles please." He said. "I prefer to conduct conversations like this earnestly." He then anticipated the obvious question. "I tolerate it with the troops because it helps them do their job. I do ask them to remove their goggles when they are off duty and trying to talk to me."

A smile tugged at the right corner of the Major's lips and she did as asked, removing her goggles entirely and setting them on her side of the table. Her dark purple eyes glittered with amusement and clear interest, specifically, in him. He was used to that though.

"My apologies for offending you Lord Netter. It was not my intention." She brought a hand up to her cheek and rubbed it gingerly. "I've never met a male of Blanket descent before. And you have such a strong voice despite your size."

Tobri was descended from the Blanket Octopus from millennia ago, a species known to them because the Precursors had been fascinated by the creature, specifically the huge disparity in size between the male and female. With a mass ratio of one to forty-thousand, in favour of the comparatively massive female, it was the largest gender size disparity in the world at the time. That disparity carried on to Octolings, although, to a degree that didn't often occur with most other lines of ancestry. Even now, Major Darksea was nearly one-hundred times his own height, but his small size was what had made him ideal for this covert mission to gather information on the Inklings within their own city.

"I'm flattered to have been the first then. Care to explain the specifics of why you're here, Major? Did the ruling council already expect results? I have been sending my daily reports."

"I'm here on behalf of the intelligence chief, my lord. She asked me to stress that this is in no way an expression of dissatisfaction with you or your progress; rather, she has been excited over how much information has been gathered in such a short time. We've had only speculation about Inkling society before after all."

"Well, even most of my data is only speculation."

"But speculation supported by direct investigation. That's why it's been so encouraging. I'm just here to get a preview of some of the actual information you've gathered. There's only so much to learn from daily reports after all."

Tobri shrugged. "Very well. I suppose we can go over today's data together and maybe that will help sate your superior's curiosity."

"I'm certain it will."

Tobri pulled out his notebook and grinned to himself when he saw the expression on Darksea's face, perhaps just realizing that his notebook wouldn't be at her scale.

"Don't worry; I'll read you the highlights." He saw her grimace just slightly and then began a summary of his efforts.

"I spent most of the day watching Inkopolis Square. It's a large place where Inklings gather for their battle simulations, turf wars as they call them, but it's also a common gathering place for others to mingle. It's been quite a ripe place to analyze the social interactions of Inkling youth and young adults.

Inkling females seem to be the nexus of most social groups outside of turf war and sometimes even within them. Males are focused more on combat and have proven to be quite territorial with their chosen female, even if they might be seeking an alternative." Seeing the confusion on the Major's face, he elaborated. "Inklings generally take on a single life partner as a mate. I haven't observed any cases of a male having more than one mate yet."

The Major nodded slowly. "So even after The Great Turf War, they have a more even ratio of males to females."

"Yes, so it would seem; however, there does seem to be more females overall from what I've observed but it's not a very large difference. It might also just be the parts of Inkopolis I've been able to observe directly.

"Anyway, their society seems to be at least partly matriarchal and, like us, the females are generally much larger than the males when fully grown but in their youth, they are of comparable height until they reach a second stage of growth. Exactly when this second stage occurs varies."

The Major's brows furrowed deeply, her eyes going distant as she went deep into thought. Tobri wondered which tidbit of information made her so thoughtful. He wondered if perhaps he was speaking too much like a lecturer and overwhelming her. He had been accused as much before. Then again, he wondered if there was more to it than that. Was she looking for some particular information?

"I see. Do they appear to have abundant resources? Have you discovered how males attract females?"

"They're certainly not wanting for much, resource wise; however, unlike us, where the few fertile females are taken care of by the state, Inkling males have to prove themselves capable of providing all the necessities of life for the female and their clutch prior to being accepted as a mate. At least, that's what I've surmised based on the limited observations I've made regarding their courtship rituals. There are always secondary considerations but they very from person to person. In reverse, females of larger size or who stand out in a particular field seem to acquire the most attention. I have noticed that both seem to use the battle simulations as a means of judging certain qualities in potential mates."

The major steepled her fingers thoughtfully. "Have you observed any of these battle simulations?"

"Of course. They broadcast them on large screens in the square. On the battlefield, Inklings don't seem to behave in any way particular to gender. Either can be aggressive or methodical. Some turn into completely different people on the battlefield." The major responded with a slow nod. That was probably something she knew from her own experiences.

"And did you notice any tactics they used? Patterns in their attack or defence?"

So that was it; she was looking for military intelligence. "Major, my mission was to observe and analyze the Inklings as a whole, not their methods of battle. Besides, these battle simulations don't appear to be taken seriously as practice for war. They're treated as games-."

"Don't be fooled!" Major Darksea stood up, leaning forward on her hands. Her eyes crackled with violet fire. "The Inklings are always preparing for war! If they weren't, they never would have taken back the zapfish, they would never have been able to defeat our leader, and they would not have beaten us a century ago in the Great Turf War!"

The door to the office burst open. The guards outside ran in and aimed their ink guns at the irate major, trying to keep themselves between her and the male they'd been assigned to protect.

The major didn't move for several long moments. If the two young grunts were intimidated by the elite, it didn't show clearly.

Realizing her error, the Major slowly sat back down, forcing herself to calm and regain her composure. "Apologies my lord. I spoke out of turn."

"Of course." He waved the guards away. They both glared at the major through their goggles and slowly left the room. Once the door had closed, Tobri addressed the ashamed officer again.

"Major, military action against the Inklings hasn't worked so far. Part of the reason for that is because we don't understand the Inklings as a whole. That is the purpose of my mission, to give us a better understanding of them and their society. The more we know about them, the better we will be able to deal with them."

The major's hands slowly balled into fists. He could see she was getting frustrated, or perhaps she felt insulted. Maybe he needed to throw her a lifeline. Perhaps the military as a whole needed one right now.

"Of course, these battle simulations have proven to be a large and important part of their culture. It would be worth investigating them but I don't have the expertise. You could petition, well, whoever's in charge, to send a person better versed in military matters than I."

The major looked up, suddenly with light behind her eyes. He could see the gears in her head turning rapidly as she considered the proposal, no doubt picking someone in her head ideally suited for her purposes. "Yes", she said slowly. "I think that might work."

"I'll even put the suggestion in my next report I send."

The major nodded, smiling just a little. "Thank you for your consideration, my lord. I will try to find someone capable." She stood and bowed her head. "I will leave you to your work. I'm certain you have much to do."

' _That's all you wanted?'_ "Yes, thank you." and he watched her go.

Tobri groaned and rubbed his eyes. He was relieved that the unexpected meeting had ended as well as it had. Still, he hoped he wouldn't regret what he promised her. It could arguably compromise his own mission.

He looked through his notebook, flipping through the pages of notations he had made throughout the day. He hadn't learned anything really new but he had refined many of his earlier observations.

The Inklings were certainly as hedonistic as he had been lead to believe. The whole time he had been there, he had scarcely seen any Inklings with jobs that didn't relate to Turf Wars or some form of entertainment. Some even made a living doing turf wars. How or why, he had yet to understand. Perhaps whoever ended up researching their battle simulations would be able to figure it out.

Most of the Inklings he observed were in their teen years, but even so, they seemed to be enjoying a fairly worry-free life compared to what an octarian the same age would go through. He guessed that Turf Wars were a kind of coming of age thing. They seemed to judge their own worth and those of their peers based on their performance in Turf Wars, more so the males, but even the females were not totally exempt from it.

"Well, that should make it easier to identify the most dangerous Inklings. That should make the military happy."

There was just so much to go through, so many different social cues and interactions to postulate, and then there was the mystery of the white flowers he had seen some females possess but never any males.

There was a knock at the door. Tobri had a good guess at who it was. "Come in."

The outpost commander slipped inside, glancing around the room before approaching the table. "Are you alright my lord? I saw the guards rush in at one point."

"Nothing to be concerned about. The major was merely stressed. Speaking of which, I suppose, since you're here, we might as well make the draw for the lottery, yes?"

"As you wish."

The base commander walked to a basket marked "IN" and brought it over to him. Inside the basket was a collection of small spheres, each with its own number on it. The commander dug her hand into the basket and began swirling the contents as she came.

Tobri closed his eyes and dove into the bowl, pushing aside some of the many balls within until he blindly grasped one. "Alright, this one."

He opened his eyes and the commander picked up the ball to examine the number. Almost instantly, her face turned a dark blue. Tobri grinned. "It's you isn't it?"

The commander's tentacles turned a bright pink and she started to tug on them, "Y-yes sir."

"Well, I assume you have a lot of stress built up, am I right?" He jerked his thumb towards his living quarters. "Might as well start now."

"Now?"

"You don't have any more duties now that I'm back and the major is gone, right?"

The commander tugged on the ends of her fingers and slowly nodded. "As you wish." She held out her hands, letting him hop into them, then carried him over.

Up close, his quarters looked much less like a coffin than it did from afar. The windows installed in the sides and on the top helped make it look more welcoming and less claustrophobic to those inside.

The commander placed him on the floor and he grasped the handle on the end, swinging the entire wall open. "Would you like to go in head first or feet first? I don't really care either way."

She looked at him and then at the box. "Head first I think."

"Alright then. While you get undressed, I'll make sure everything's ready."

The interior of his quarters was dominated by a single room with a plush floor, essentially a mattress. That was the bedroom. At the far end was his actual living space separated from the bedroom by a sturdy wall, behind which, was an office and washroom.

To get the bedroom space ready, all he had to do was remove a few papers and scraps out and put them back in his office. He always made sure to keep the mattress and blankets clean. The difficulty of said task depended on his company for the night.

His office was comparatively messy with papers organized in clumsy piles, printed pictures taking up space unnecessarily. At his size, they were as big as posters.

With his tidying up done, he emerged back into the bedroom just in time to see the commander shyly peeking around the corner, her cheeks flushed blue, her tentacles a pale yellow.

Chuckling he motioned her inside. "Come now, it wouldn't do for an outpost commander be so timid."

The commander pouted adorably, giving Tobri a painful reminder that he had children at least half her age and he hadn't seen any of them in over a year. That wasn't uncommon for male octolings, some never knowingly saw their children, but lately, he'd been feeling a sense of longing for his many offspring and his mates.

The commander crawled on her belly until her head reached the small pillow near the inside wall and she rolled onto her back. She was small enough that there was room between her and the walls for him to walk. Still, he always liked to do an inspection first. It helped set the mood and helped the girl prepare herself.

Her large yellow eyes followed him as he climbed onto her shoulder and walked onto her bare chest. He managed to keep his balance as she flinched beneath him. Clearly, she was fresh and new at this whole thing.

"So, your name is Morba, right?"

"Y-yes."

"Well Morba, your body seems to be in very good shape. Your skin has a healthy lustre, your muscles seem strong." He bounced lightly on her stomach. Without being so strong that you lack flexibility, my guess."

"Th-thank you. As commander I have to set the example and so I do my utmost to stay in shape. If we only had more food available, we'd be in even better condition."

"Well, hopefully, my research will help us find ways to make that possible."

Morba's body tensed as he neared her legs. Even from this distance, he could tell she was unspoiled, rather surprising for someone who had gotten to her position. Perhaps she was younger than she seemed.

Ignoring it for now, he stepped off of her hip and walked along the length of her leg, dragging his hand along it as he went. He needed her to start getting riled up. From the hitched breaths and heavy exhales it seemed to be working.

Tobri stepped out of his quarters and closed the large door shut, sealing them in. As he walked between her legs and he could hear her hearts beating faster in anticipation. Now with a clear view, he could easily tell that she was unspoilt.

"Well, the Morba. Shell we relieve you of all that pent-up tension?"

She let out a small whimper, making him almost feel guilty for what he was about to do, but she had asked for this. The lottery was purely voluntary after all.

Tobri removed his single large tentacle from its pouch on his head and moved in. "Try to relax. It'll only hurt a little at the start."

Outside, the two guards at the door slowly tried to sink their heads between their shoulders, trying not to hear their commander's cries of ecstasy.

I wanted to write a story giving a glimpse into the Octarian society in my headcanon and to show a little hypocrisy.


	3. Big Novelty

**Author's Notes:**

There was a discussion in the Splatoon Writers Discord once regarding if Inklings could actually get fat (this was an offshoot of a conversation about if Inklings and Octolings had breasts or if they were something else). Needless to say, a fat inkling didn't seem likely given their society and fast metabolism necessary for things like turf war, but I wondered what a fat Inkling would be like and how would society feel about them? After all, they would be such a rarity. This story was inspired by that idea and in fact, it inspired this whole series of short stories. I wrote this story first but I was worried people would be off-put by the subject matter so I decided to start more gently with the Dakota story.

Hope you enjoyed reading and I apologize in advance for any offence this causes.

* * *

Lula tried to ignore all the stares, gaping mouths, and cellphone cameras directed her way as she walked through the plaza with armfuls of groceries. Her short tentacles flashed between sea blue and grey, trying to blend in with her concrete surroundings as if it would make her invisible.

She silently cursed herself for missing the bus to the usual store. The people around there knew her already and her novelty had worn off. Not wanting to wait an hour, she decided to take the next bus which brought her to a large shopping centre. Here, she was new and unusual. People stared at her with an odd fascination, confused about how they should feel.

She knew why they were staring at her, she had dealt with it most of her life. She felt it with every heavy step she took, every oscillation of her flesh. She was something most Inklings hadn't even conceived let alone seen. She was fat.

A fat Inkling was like an oxymoron. Inklings were so active and fit and had such a high metabolism that getting fat seemed unimaginable. The only time Inklings were known to gain weight was during eggnancy, but that was a barely noticeable amount, most of the time, and got burned off fairly quickly once the egg was laid. Fat or blubber belonged on whales, not on Inklings; and yet, here she was, a veritable land whale lumbering down the sidewalk on her way to the bus stop.

As Lula stood and waited for the bus home, the other waiting passengers kept glancing at her, their eyes locking onto the different parts of her body blubber had over accumulated. It was pretty hard to ignore, even with all the practice she had, but she tried focusing on how sore her feet and ankles were after walking, what was for her, a long way. At least her arms were in shape. One of the few parts of her body that didn't have any excess.

She was relieved when the bus finally arrived and the door opened. The driver was a Jellyfish, so it wouldn't stare at her as she got on. She ignored the sounds of camera clicks behind her as she ascended the bus stairs, knowing full well where they were aimed. She sat on one of the front seats and set down her bags of groceries. She wiggled her toes in her shoes, feeling so much relief to be off her feet.

The other passengers walked past her, finding their own seats, but one girl sat next to her, eyes transfixed on her phone as her fingers typed. Lula wondered if she was texting about her.

As the bus started to move, Lula couldn't help but regard the girl and envy her body. Unlike, her own quartet of short indigo tentacles, the other girl's were long and a vibrant orange. She was wearing some cute clothes too: a dark red skirt and vest over a white button-up shirt. Lula couldn't hope to wear anything like that. Unlike the orange girl's trim figure, she was so big that all of her clothes had to be custom made for her. No inkling clothes were made in anything close to her size or shape.

Lula decided to think of something less depressing and looked at a group of four situated in the back, two boys and two girls. They were all equipped for Turf War, holding weapons. They were having a lively chat about their matches, regaling some other passengers with their exploits with wild hand gestures. Seeing that only made Lula's heart ache more.

Lula had never done Turf War, she was too big and slow a target and far too cumbersome to do anything. She had known that without ever having tried. Besides that, her metabolism was probably too slow to produce ink at the necessary rate to rage turf war anyway.

Suddenly depressed, Lula reached into one of the bags and pulled out one of the many candy bars, unwrapping it and stuffing it in her mouth. She felt just a little bit better after that. She didn't want to think about all the things she couldn't do, like being able to play turf wars, wear fresh clothes, and compete over boys. That made her depressed again, and she ate another candy bar.

Suddenly, the bus screeched to a halt and Lula was pressed against the side of the seat. The girl next to her then slid into her, pressed against her softer body.

"Idiot!" The bus driver yelled. "Look before crossing!"

Lula groaned, and straightened up, taking a full second to realize that her arm was wrapped around her seat companion's waist.

"Oh, sorry I-." Her voice was cut off as the cute girl nuzzled her face against her side and let out a pleasant hum.

"So cuddly."

Lula's cheeks turned blue and then turned an even darker shade as the girl hugged her like an oversized stuffed animal.

"Oh, sorry, let me help you." The girl bent forward and began picking up Lula's grocery bags which and slipped onto the floor in front of them. Lula hurriedly picked up a few of the items more on her side, accidentally bumping into the girl with her left chest mound.

"Oh.. s-sorry," she stammered.

"It's fine. It was soft." There was awkwardness in that smile though, and that hurt Lula a little bit, even if she knew the girl didn't mean it that way. Blubber didn't feel like anything else, it probably felt very strange to her, maybe even repulsive.

Lula shrunk away from her, even as she finished putting all the groceries back in the bags and setting them at her feet.

"Oops, this is my stop." She gave Lula a light tap with her tentacle. "I'll see you round 'Cuddly.'" The bus halted and she stepped off, heading down the street.

Lula watched her go as the bus pulled away. It wasn't often someone talked to her without asking how she got so fat or if there was something wrong with her.

"Cuddly," she murmured. Probably one of the nicest things she had ever been called outside her own home. "But I didn't even get her name."

Lula was glad to finally arrive home. The small suburban bungalow was a humble house but it was well kept thanks to her diligent mother, always clean and the lawn nicely trimmed. Blue painted window frames, white siding and a white wooden fence gave it a quaint appearance among the more contemporary homes surrounding them.

"I'm home," Lula called as she stepped into the porch area. She tried not to let her breathlessness show in her voice. She deposited the groceries on the kitchen table just as her mother entered the room.

"Aw, my little girl is home."

Lalia Sandr looked young for having a child Lula's age, compounded by her shorter than average height, being even shorter than Lula herself. Her indigo mantle was as vibrant as it had ever been and her matching eyes were full of joy as she hugged her daughter, sinking herself into the firm but malleable blubber as if she were her favourite pillow. She was probably the only one in the world who would ever refer to Lula as "little."

"Yeah, I'm home." Lula hugged her back tightly. Her mother was the one person who didn't give her strange or shocked looks when she saw her, didn't say anything mean behind her back and who always supported her. She made home more than a roof over her head, she made it a refuge.

"You must be hungry after such a long trip." She gave Lula's belly a pat and then separated from her. "I'll bring you some homemade donuts and then I'll get started on dinner."

"You really don't have to-."

"Nonsense, I can't have my baby going hungry. You can go and watch TV. I'll bring them to you."

Lula sighed. She knew better than to argue with her. Her mother always insisted on taking care of just about everything. Lula had to do a little arm twisting just to let her do the grocery shopping. Despite the effort it took, it was worth it just to get out of the house.

The couch cushions were crushed in the middle where Lula's generous rear created a crater. Her mother sometimes talked about getting new cushions but Lula always talked her out of it. These days she carried her cushions around with her anyway.

Lula took her seat, ignoring the sounds of complaint the couch made and flipped on the TV. It was on one of the channels her mother watched, dedicated to mothers and housewives. She began surfing through the other channels when her mother arrived with a large plastic container full of homemade donuts, each lathered in a thick layer of chocolate and sprinkles on top.

"Thanks, Mom. Sure you don't need help with the groceries?"

"Of course not. You're probably exhausted, just let your mommy take care of it." Her mother kissed her on the cheek and then hurried back to the kitchen.

Lula groaned. Her mother had always babied her like this. Never made her do anything; always taking care of things herself. Others her age would probably find that ideal, but every time she saw her own image or felt the stares on her, Lula didn't think it worth the price. She always felt bad about all the work her mother did and put into everything.

Having found a channel that wouldn't depress her right away, Lula shoved one donut into her mouth and hummed pleasantly. Her mother was a fantastic baker and cook, unmatched in her eyes. Lula was sure she could have started a successful bakery if she wasn't so busy pampering her.

Halfway through the donuts, the Squid Sisters appeared on an interview, going over the results of a poll. Lula was a fan of theirs and had been worried they would split when they started different projects. Fortunately, after Callie had gone missing then been found, they seemed to be closer than ever.

Lula sighed as she gazed over the two idol's bodies with envious eyes. Sleek, fit, and limber; everything she wanted to be.

"How did I get like this?" She asked herself for the umpteenth time and munched on another donut. She supposed she had never been as active as most Inklings. She'd always carried excess blubber, even as a child. She had always been a big eater, but her mother had never said anything about it was wrong so she never considered that eating so much was a bad thing. By the time she realized that there was such a thing as overeating, it was already too late.

"Dinner's ready," her mother called.

"Coming." Lula turned off the TV and rocked a little to help herself get off the couch. She could already smell dinner from the living room.

When she got to the kitchen, the little table was almost overflowing with food. There was no plate, just a spoon, fork and knife. Lula couldn't remember the last time she ate from a plate at home, she just ate right from the pans, pots and bowls these days. Her mother was at the stove making still more food for dessert.

Lula sat in her chair, her butt spilling over the sides. She wished she had a bench or could eat from the couch; that would be more comfortable.

"Everything alright?"

Lula's cheeks darkened. "My butt's too big for the chair Mom." Her mother just smiled.

"Well, children outgrow things dear." She sighed. "I wish your father were here to see you grow up. He'd be so proud." She walked over and hugged Lula tightly. "Since he's not here, it's up to make to make sure you grow as big and strong as possible."

"I know Mom." She said. "But… aren't you worried I'll get too big?"

"Of course not. However big you get is how big you need to be to be you, and I'll never stop loving you, no matter how big you get. I'm your mother; it's my job." She kissed her cheek and Lula had to admit that she felt better. As she dug into her dinner however and her mother started making dessert, she couldn't help but wonder where it would end.


End file.
